


Withheld

by chamaenerion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel (Supernatural)'s True Form, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 01:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamaenerion/pseuds/chamaenerion
Summary: Dean wanted to be angry. Anger made things easy, simple in a way that things rarely were when it came to Cas. It didn’t leave any room for soft touches, quiet words, or that terrible feeling in his gut that screamed for him to grab Cas and never let go.When Castiel gets hit with a spell on a routine witch hunt, it unleashes his true form. The thought of losing Cas again is unbearable and feelings Dean has repressed for years begin to surface.





	Withheld

**Author's Note:**

> I was lucky enough to claim a lovely piece of art by [sarasaurussex](http://sarasaurussex.tumblr.com/) for my first year participating in the Dean/Cas Reverse Bang! All my thanks to her and the mods for making this a really fun challenge.
> 
> [link to art masterpost](https://sarasaurussex.tumblr.com/post/185677470358/this-is-the-art-i-made-for-deancasreversebang-i/)   
> 
> 
> *unbeta'd, apologies for any mistakes

[](https://ibb.co/3zKQtBL)

Castiel’s grace wasn’t what it used to be.

So he ran after Dean when he disappeared into the woods in pursuit of the witch they had been tracking all week though he longed to fly. To appear before the witch and rid them of this problem before Dean even took another step toward danger.

Instead, Castiel narrowly dodged a fallen tree and almost collided with Dean who had the witch held at gunpoint.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” the witch sneered.

“And why’s that?” Dean asked.

Castiel caught sight of a line of blood dripping from the witch’s hand. He’s stalling, Castiel realized. He barely had a moment to push Dean out of the way of the witch’s aim.

Dean shouted and there was a loud gunshot, but Castiel was distracted by a sudden face full of putrid slime. A mix of blood and moldy herbs assaulted his senses and set his skin on fire. He instinctively reached for the dredges of his grace to cleanse himself and that’s when the spell latched on.

He dropped to his knees as his grace seized. Someone was yelling, and for a terrifying moment he thought it was Dean until he registered the raw pain in his own throat. And then there was the sudden feeling of hands gripping his shoulders.

Unsure of when he’d closed his eyes, Castiel tried to pry them open. If the witch was still there… but it was Dean who knelt before him.

A wave of pain coursed through Castiel’s body and he slumped sideways.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded distant but Castiel could still feel his hands, one digging into his shoulder, the other warm against his cheek. “Cas! Stay with me, man.”

Then there was nothing but pain. He tried to pull away from Dean as his grace ripped through his vessel, afraid he would lash out and cause harm.

He could feel his grace coil within him ready to burst, doing its best to tear him in half. Through the pain he stretched his wings and launched himself away from Dean and into the air.

Castiel must not have travelled very far because when his feet hit solid ground again he could still hear Dean calling for him. Desperate to take flight again as gracelight poured from his very skin, he braced himself. Castiel’s grace twisted and tore at itself and try as he might, he couldn’t get it to submit to his will, he cried out as his vessel ripped apart to manifest the pair of wings that sprouted from his shoulder blades.

He dropped to his knees under the new weight. And then just as suddenly as it began the pain was gone.

Distantly he realized the power surge from his grace had burned away his clothes. The wings weighed him down, and he collapsed back against something. No, not something-- someone. He was barely aware of Dean’s voice and was only able to process parts of what he said as Castiel fought to remain conscious.

“Cas… stay-- it’s… you gotta… lose you…”

Castiel tried to find the strength to reach out and reassure Dena that he would be fine, because Dean should never sound so worried. Not about him-- whose job it was to protect and worry about Dean, not the other way around. It seemed Castiel was forever destined to be a burden.

Unable to sustain his battle against the darkness edging in around him, Castiel followed the thought into unconsciousness.

[](https://ibb.co/5hmLP7b)

Dean only took his eyes off the witch for a second when he heard Cas cry out in pain, but that was all it took for the bastard to disappear into the trees.

He turned to find that Cas had dropped to the ground, his face twisted in pain and his hands clutching his head as he screamed. Dean rushed to his side and hit his knees, reaching to grab Cas’ shoulders and tried to anchor him from whatever invisible pain was wreaking havoc on him.

“Cas?” he said, ignoring the panic that was beginning to choke him. “Cas! Stay with me, man.” He wedged a hand beneath Cas’ wrist to touch his face and cursed at the ice cold skin he found there.

And then Cas lit up like a freaking Christmas tree.

The bright light of his grace seemed to pour out from his very skin, and Dean shouted at him, trying desperately to help him keep his focus. “Fight this, Cas. You can fight this!”

But Cas pulled away from his grip and in a blink he was gone.

Dean’s heart stopped for a horrible moment, but then he caught sight of him thirty yards ahead in a small clearing.

Afraid that he would disappear again, Dean ran after him. He called for him to stop dammit!, and then he couldn’t say anything at all as he watched in amazement as Cas’ body lifted high into the air and a brilliant shock of light lit up the forest around them.

Suddenly Cas didn’t look like Cas anymore, or rather he looked much more like himself than Dean had ever seen him before. He seemed to explode all at once into feathers and what appeared to be… three heads. Dean couldn’t move, he just stood there trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure if Cas got bigger or if he only felt smaller from having seen him.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the light faded and Cas was Cas again. He stood unsteadily in the grass, completely buck naked. Dean blinked at the two enormous black wings that sprouted from Cas’ shoulder blades. As he watched, Cas stumbled and fell to his knees, and that spurred Dean forward.

He got to Cas just as he began to collapse further, and he let him fall back into his arms.

“Cas,” Dean said and his voice broke over the word, “stay with me. It’s going to be… you gotta stay with me. I won’t lose you, not again.” He wrapped his arms tighter across Cas’ bare chest. Cas’ head lolled back against Dean’s shoulder when he passed out, and Dean tucked his face into his neck and tried to breathe.

His fear rose like bile in his throat-- he was all too familiar with the feeling of losing Cas, of being separated from him, but that never made it any easier.

Maybe that was just how they were meant to be, he thought bitterly. Never together. Never on the same page. One or both always having to miss the other. Most times when they were actually together Dean still felt like he was missing Cas. And here he was now, cradled in Dean’s arms but unconscious and in pain. The things that Dean wanted always came to him in the worst way imaginable.

Because here they were, and in some other universe or some other context Dean’s heart would be full of something other than paralyzing fear.

Dean lifted a hand to push it through Cas’ hair, and told himself that he was looking for any sign of injury. The soft hair whispered against his fingers and his heart clenched.

Any moment now he was going to move, to pull away and rest his friend gently in the grass, call Sam, hunt down that witch. Any moment now, he would let go.

Eventually, Cas shifted. He groaned faintly, and Dean set his jaw.

“Dammit, Cas,” he growled, anger and fear and relief at war within him, “you could have died!”

Though his words were harsh, his arms were gentle where they pulled Cas closer against his chest, like if he held on tight enough he could absorb the effects of the spell himself and Cas would be fine.

“You certainly would have if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way,” Cas retorted. His voice rasped like sandpaper in Dean’s ears.

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face without loosening his hold on Cas. In a moment it would become awkward, but Cas felt solid and warm in his arms and it only felt right. There was no tension in his body pressed against Dean, and he was pliant when Dean tugged him around so settle them more closely together. Close enough that Dean could feel the beat of his heart against his own.

And then there were the wings.

Cas’ wingspan draped listlessly to either side. Dean had a clear view of the powerful joints sprouting from his shoulder blades, crushed as they were between their two bodies. The feathers were silky to the touch and the tips of Dean’s fingers tingled as he brushed a blade of grass from the tip one one dark feather.

“Are these really your wings?”

Cas sighed. “What else would they be?”

Dean poked at a wing more boldly. “I don’t know… some half-assed spell that tried to turn you into a bird?”

Feathers enveloped his hand and he could feel the electric tingle all the way up his arm. Cas shifted against him, then groaned in pain.

Dean tensed, waiting to see if he would fall into another fit, but the moment passed and Dean allowed himself to hope that the worst of the spell was behind them, that Cas just needed a little more time to rest and recover before he would be good as new.

“They’re mine,” Cas said. His voice was quiet; Dean tipped his head forward to listen. “I tried to remove them from this plane of existence, but my grace… it’s taking everything to simply keep this body together.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to get you home like this, man,” Dean said. Home would be safe, without the moon shining on his inky black wings and his bare skin that made Dean think of the bright grace that had filled the forest when Cas’ true form had shifted in and out of view. Home, where there were clothes and walls and distance and not Cas’ warm body and soft electric feathers that filled Dean’s senses and made it so hard for him to ignore what he wanted.

Cas took one deep shuddering breath and reached a trembling hand back to touch the side of Dean’s face.

In the next breath they were no longer in the small forest clearing-- they were in Dean’s bedroom at the bunker. Cas’ wing twitched out and knocked over his end table.

“Cas, what the hell?” He looked at Cas, ready to chew him out for being so reckless and using energy he couldn’t afford to spare, only to realize that he was unconscious again. “Alright, yeah great timing. You just rest, Big Bird.” And he stood to haul his naked best friend onto his bed.

Thankfully the wings weren’t as heavy as he expected them to be, so he was able to lift him more or less successfully. He laid Cas out on his stomach so his wings could drape down along either side of the bed, and then realized he had dropped him on top of the covers.

Dean left to find a blanket and when he came back Cas was still dead to the world. He tucked the blanket around him as best he could without squashing his wings, and his eyes caught on the enochian sigils inked across his ribs. He mentally shook himself and tugged the blanket over the tattoo before he did something stupid, and then Dean noticed clumps of grass and dirt clinging to Cas’ wing tips. He reached out and gently brushed them clean which somehow turned into his hand sliding deeper into the feathers to feel that strange energy course through his skin.

For a moment, Dean left his hand there and breathed deeply. Cas was _okay_. Or, he would be, and Dean would make sure of that.

He continued to clean off the feathers, and was just considering going to get a washcloth when Cas stirred.

[](https://ibb.co/mvsB2Z4)

Dean’s hands were so gentle as they worked on his wings. His soft touch lulled Castiel into a deep rest just on the edge of unconsciousness. He floated there gratefully for a while to allow his mind and his grace draw comfort from each caress and the warm scent on the pillow beneath his face.

Only when Dean’s hands paused and he heard him take a shuddering breath did he crack open one eye to look at Dean. “You don’t have to do that,” he rasped.

“Oh.” Dean quickly withdrew his hands. Color blossomed on his cheeks and ears. “I can stop.”

Castiel sighed. “You don’t have to do that, either.”

Dean’s face flashed open and hopeful, and Castiel could plainly see how he was trying to close off the expression. Before he could, Castiel continued: “I would really prefer that you didn’t stop.”

When Dean opened his mouth to respond, that was naturally the moment his phone began to ring. As he dug it out of his pocket, Castiel closed his eyes again not at all surprised at the timing.

Dean answered his phone. “Sam, are you…? No we lost him. That damn witch put some kind of hoodoo on Cas. No, he’s not fine! I’m not freakin- just find the son of a bitch.” There was a long pause before Dean said, “I’m not there anymore. Cas zapped us back to the bunker. Alright, alright, you call me after.”

Castiel watched him toss his phone onto the table. Dean wouldn’t meet Castiel’s eyes when he told him that Sam and Jack were going to take care of the witch.

“You try to… get some sleep,” he said. “I’ve got to go and, uh, get them some info from the archives.”

And even though Castiel wanted to ask him to stay, his body felt too heavy and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He was asleep again before Dean left the room.

When he woke sometime later it was to the sight of Dean asleep in a chair next to the bed.

Castiel watched him for a few minutes, taking in his crossed arms and bowed head, and he thought of all the times he had kept a similar nighttime vigil over Dean’s bedside. He couldn’t think of those as simpler times but he still looked back on them fondly. He would much rather watch over Dean than have to be looked after himself.

Not wanting to disturb him, Castiel tried to shift quietly. But as tired and uncoordinated as he was feeling he couldn’t avoid how the tip of one wing brushed against Dean’s leg and woke him with a start.

“Sorry,” Castiel said. He dropped his wings back toward the ground.

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. You should be.”

“Dean, I’m not going to apologize for pushing you out of the way of that spell. You would be dead. I could take it, I’m fine.”

“Fine! He calls this ‘ _fine_ ’.” Dean reached out and grabbed a handful of feathers. “What the hell, man?”

“I can take care of this,” Castiel said, but he looked away from Dean feeling slightly embarrassed. “Only not right now.” To be honest even their brief conversation was taking its toll. And Dean’s face said he clearly knew that was the case.

Dean sighed and absent-mindedly stroked the feathers he had tousled back into place. Castiel felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

“Alright,” Dean said quietly, “go back to sleep. But we’re not done.”

He didn’t say _‘I’ll be here when you wake up’_ , but Castiel heard it all the same.

[](https://ibb.co/5hmLP7b)

Dean wanted to be angry. Anger made things easy, simple in a way that things rarely were when it came to Cas. It didn’t leave any room for soft touches, quiet words, or that terrible feeling in his gut that screamed for him to grab Cas and never let go.

Now that Cas was home and more or less safe, Dean’s initial twinge of fear was eclipsed by exhaustion. He couldn’t have dozed for more than an hour before Cas had accidentally woke him up. His eyelids grew heavy as he watched Cas sleep. It was unnerving to see his face smoothed into a peaceful rest where Dean was used to seeing creased brows and a hard clenched jaw.

He continued to run his fingers over the wing Cas had stretched out to him, grateful for the distraction and the soft electric feeling that assured him Cas was alive.

A yawn caught him off guard and he lifted a hand to muffle the sound, then glanced at his watch and was surprised to find that it was almost three o’clock in the morning. A perfect opportunity for some coffee.

Dean gently pushed away the wing that was draped over his knees. He left as quietly as he could.

Breathing felt easier in the kitchen. He started a new pot of coffee on autopilot and grabbed a bottle of Jack from the shelf to pour a generous amount into his mug.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered without checking the screen. “What?”

“We got him,” Sam said.

Dean felt a little lightheaded. Must have been the whiskey. He closed his eyes. “You and the kid okay?”

“Yeah, no worse than usual.”

“Good, that’s… good,” Dean said. “Come on home. And don’t scratch Baby.”

“Dean, when have I ever-” Sam’s voice cut off when Dean hung up.

He took one last scalding gulp of coffee and abandoned his mug to the sink.

Dean wouldn’t say he rushed back to his room to check on Cas, but he definitely turned the corner fast enough that he couldn’t avoid crashing straight into Cas in the doorway.

“Cas!” Dean took half a step back and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. His surprisingly clothed shoulder. “Are you-? They got the witch.” He grabbed Cas’ face, turned his head from side to side, and ignored the way Cas rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

Dean didn’t buy it for one second. “Yeah? Then why are these still out?” He reached forward to pat his hand against one silky black wing.

Cas closed his eyes, his lips parted on a sigh. Dean felt him lean into his touch.

“I’m tired, Dean,” he said. “It’s easier to have them out. And it feels… nice.”

Nice was an understatement. Dean dug his fingers deeper into the soft downy feathers, they were pleasantly cool to the touch and the energy coursing through them set his nerves on fire. He looked up from his lips to find Cas’ gaze fixed on him like a challenge.

_Okay_ , Dean thought wildly, _we’re doing this_. And he leaned in to kiss him.

The moment their mouths met, any doubt Dean felt melted away. He couldn’t remember anything that had ever felt like this. His heart raced but it wasn’t the adrenaline rush he knew so well, it was just happiness and relief and every carnal thought he’d repressed for the past ten years. Dean kissed his best friend, really _kissed_ him, and moaned when he felt the slide of Cas’ tongue against his. And the only part that was strange were the wings.

Not bad strange, he thought as he buried his hands in feathers and they sent a shiver up his arms.

They broke apart to catch their breath and Dean was struck by the grin on Cas’ face. He was certain he’d never seen him smile like that. Then Cas’ eyes darted down to his lips and he pushed forward into Dean’s until Dean’s back hit the wall. He was entirely surrounded by Cas when his wings fell forward to cocoon the both of them, so Dean moved his hands to Cas’ face. He considered the scratch of stubble on his fingers and decided he liked it, and would probably like it even more against other parts of his body. His neck, for sure. Rubbed against his thigh? Oh, _fuck_. The thought, or maybe the feathers that brushed against his sides, sent a spike of arousal through him and he gasped.

“Dean,” Cas said, “is this…?”

Dean pulled him in for another kiss. “Good?” he asked against Cas’ lips.

Cas hummed into his mouth and let the kiss carry on for a moment before he broke away again.

“A good idea?” Cas asked.

He wanted to say it was the best idea they’d ever had. An idea he’d carried around with him for years and never dared hope he’d be lucky enough to have. But he figured Cas might have already known that. So he simply said, “I’m in, if you are.”

Cas answered him with a deep, searing kiss that made his back arch off the wall.

When he got his hands back on the wings Cas moaned and clutched at his hips. Dean wasn’t faring much better himself, he felt like he was on the verge of sensory overload and he never wanted it to stop. Everything in that moment was Cas- and he’d wanted this for so long, to hold Cas in his arms. To really feel like Cas was there with him, all barriers stripped away.

Speaking of barriers. “Cas,” he panted, and the angel in question trailed a line of kisses down his neck, “clothes.”

Cas pressed a thigh between his and Dean cried out. He tugged desperately at Cas’ wings, pulling him in impossibly closer.

“Bed,” Cas growled, and Dean felt the vibration of that one word against his neck and all the way down to where his toes curled.

They stumbled their way back through the door, neither of them willing to let go of the other.

Dean dropped onto the bed and pulled Cas with him. Cas grunted, his eyes closed tight.

“You okay?” Dean asked. He paused his hands where they began to undo the buttons on Cas’ shirt.

Cas nodded. He leaned forward to peck Dean on the lips. “Just tired.” His face scrunched like he was fighting a yawn, which of course caused Dean to copy him.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the frustrated expression on Cas’ face. Dean reached out to brush his thumb across his cheekbone and Cas’ eyes fluttered shut. “Nap first?”

Instead of answering, Cas settled into bed half on top of him and draped one wing over Dean like a blanket. Then he tugged Dean’s arm across his waist and seemed content because he promptly closed his eyes and Dean heard his breath even out as he fell asleep.

Dean really couldn’t blame him; it had been a long night. He waited for an uneasy feeling to appear and the doubt to creep in, but he only felt relaxed. It wasn’t long before he followed Cas into sleep.

Later, much later, Cas put away his wings. But he walked out of Dean’s room wearing soft worn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, so Dean was willing to take the compromise.

Dean followed him into the kitchen, intent on scrambling eggs while Cas started a fresh pot of coffee and poured a mug for himself and then one for Dean.

None of that was out of the ordinary, but Dean let his fingers linger on Cas’ when he took the coffee which made Cas smile... and that meant that Dean had to lean in to kiss him because he could do that now. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to kiss him every chance he got.

At the table, Cas watched Dean over the rim of his mug. “Are we going to do that again?”

“What?” Dean said around his eggs. “The witch hunt, the sleeping, or the fu-”

“Dean.”

Dean swallowed. “Yeah, Cas. All of it.” He tried to keep his voice light when he said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas smiled into his coffee. “Good.”

Dean knocked a knee against his and they enjoyed the morning, together.


End file.
